


Barduil Week Collection

by sailingonstardust



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Disney, Disney World, Fluff, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:25:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/pseuds/sailingonstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will put all of my entries for the Barduil week here! The theme of the day will be the title of the chapter :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

Bard had originally planned to keep an eye on four children while they were at Walt Disney World, though he was quickly beginning to realize that he was going to need to watch four children and one man-child he called his husband.

 

For months the pair had saved up to make the trip to the Happiest Place on Earth, and finally they were able to surprise their four children ages fourteen, thirteen, eleven, and eight with the vacation of a lifetime. The overexcitement of the kids was to be expected, but quite honestly it took Bard completely by surprise when Thranduil’s entire demeanor changed the second they drove underneath the entrance gate with a smiling Mickey Mouse stuck to the side.

 

Exclamations of “Bard, babe, look!” and squeals of delight that Bard didn’t even know the blond could make became commonplace as the family of six traversed through the parks. They had definitely picked the right time of year to go – the weather was a spectacular seventy degrees all day long and the crowds were relatively minimal. All in all, the trip couldn’t get much better; except, maybe, for a date that just Thranduil and Bard could enjoy without any interruptions from their children.

 

Luckily for them, Bard had planned ahead.

 

Back when they had bought their tickets and had begun to plan the details of their vacation, Bard had secretly booked a dinner for two at what he had heard was one of the best adult-oriented restaurants in Disney: Monsieur Paul in the France pavilion at EPCOT. The brunet had originally thought that both he and Thranduil would be in desperate need of a night out after three long and exhausting days at the parks with their children, but what he hadn’t counted on was Thranduil’s utter excitement for anything and everything. It actually made him even more excited than before to surprise him.

 

So, on the third night of their vacation, the husbands brought their children back to the Grand Floridian where they were staying and instructed them to shower up and have the lights out by ten. Thankfully no one protested, a testament to how tired they all were. “What are you guys gonna do, da?” Tilda questioned as she began to pull off her pink sneakers.

 

“It’s a surprise, love.” Bard grinned and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now go hop in the shower before your brothers and sister or else you’ll be waiting for an eternity.” The girl nodded and moved to pull her PJs out of one of the drawers beneath the TV.

 

With waves and blown kisses, the husbands were off. Once the door shut firmly behind them, Bard finally met Thranduil’s questioning gaze with a peck on the lips as the man asked “What _are_ wegoing to be doing?” Bard simply gave him a mischievous smile and grasped his soft hand to lead the way down the plush hallway to an elevator and then out the lobby where a live pianist was playing a song that the brunet recognized from one too many re-watches of Mary Poppins. The beauty and elegance of the place was overwhelming, and the look of awe that crossed over Thranduil’s face as they took it all in once more was surely mirrored on his own.

 

Bard led the blond through the massive lobby and through a pair of perfectly clear glass doors. The night was cool, but gentle, warm breezes caressed their faces. The way Thranduil’s hair shifted gently in the wind made Bard’s heart flutter with affection, and he had to look away lest he impulsively kiss his husband in the middle of the walkway and make lovesick fools of them both.

 

When they arrived at the monorail platform and found the sign labeled ‘Transportation and Ticket Center’, they had only moments to wait before a monorail with a salmon colored stripe rolled to a stop. Haggard looking parents with cranky children disembarked on one side while people a bit more rested loaded on the other. Both Bard and Thranduil stood once in the vehicle, giving up their seats so a group of elderly ladies, each with pink leopard patterned mouse ears on their heads, could sit.

 

The brunet felt a hand on his behind, and he looked up at Thranduil with raised eyebrows. He simply placed a light kiss on Bard’s forehead, however, and turned to look out the window at the brilliant lights that shone from all around Bay Lake as the monorail began moving and the voice emanating through the speakers asked that all passengers “please stand clear of the doors; por favor mantengase alejado de las puertas”.

 

After making a stop at the Transportation and Ticket Center to switch monorails, the pair finally disembarked at EPCOT. As usual, Thranduil was like an overgrown kid as soon as they pushed through the turnstiles. “Bard, look!” He exclaimed as they approached Spaceship Earth. What he was pointing at, Bard had to admit looked pretty cool. Below them the concrete was lit with LEDs, twinkling and looking for all the world like an actual night sky. “Honey, we should do that at home! Can you imagine how jealous Oakenshield would be?”

 

“Thran, I really don’t want our driveway lit up and looking like a thousand fireflies got ran over.” Bard protested, and Thranduil bumped his side with his own playfully.

 

“So,” the blond drawled in an attempt to change the subject, “I still don’t know what we’re doing here. I mean, obviously we’re here to have some fun alone at EPCOT, but is there a specific plan?”

 

“Why must there always be a plan with you?” Bard questioned teasingly. It was a running joke in the household that Thranduil always had to have everything planned out perfectly, whereas Bard was more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy.

 

“I was just wondering.” Thranduil smiled as he shook his head in mock annoyance, though Bard suspected there was a bit of truth to it nonetheless.

 

“But actually, there is a plan.” Bard told, and he saw the way Thranduil’s face lit up at the knowledge that his husband had actually _planned_ something nice for them. “And…” he continued, pulling out his phone to check the time, “we ought to be right on schedule if we head that way now.”

 

“What way?”

 

“You’ll see.” Bard smiled and began to drag Thranduil through Future World and over to World Showcase. France was the third pavilion from the right, and in order to get there you had to first traverse through the Canada and UK pavilions. Luckily the park was not too crowded at eight o’clock at night during the ‘off’ season, if you could believe Disney even had one, and the husbands were able to navigate it fairly quickly.

 

Upon arriving at the France pavilion, Bard felt his face light up. While the Canada and UK pavilions were certainly pretty at night, the France pavilion was _stunning_. Lights illuminated a long, low fountain in the center of the pavilion while perfectly manicured gardens surrounded it all and emanated a heady floral scent. Huge windows provided a glimpse into the warm glow of a restaurant labeled ‘Les Chefs de France’ by a decorative sign hanging above the doorway. Inside, Bard could see people eating and laughing and talking, and he couldn’t wait for him and Thranduil to get inside and experience the same thing.

 

The brunet continued to lead his husband over to the brightly illuminated restaurant and questioned a short cast member with dark, curly hair as to how to get to Monsieur Paul.

 

“Do you have a reservation, sir?” She questioned in the typical Disney tone, and Bard nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Thranduil looking impressed. “I’ll just need to scan your magic bands.” The woman told, and both men held out their wrists to the little machine with Mickey’s glowing silhouette. “Alright, looks like you guys are all set! Monsieur Paul is right up those stairs.” She said, pointing with two fingers towards a nearby staircase. “Someone will be there to take care of you at the top.”

 

“Thank you.” Bard smiled, and the pair made their way up the staircase, hand in hand. A similar exchange happened at the top of the stairs, where a gentleman led them to a small table for two that offered an incredible view which looked out a window and over the lake.

 

“Christophe will be taking care of you tonight. In the meantime feel free to look over the menu. We have a selection of wines as well as appetizers, so don’t be shy!” The man announced as he set the table, pointing out the inside cover of the menu which did, in fact, list a plethora of wines. “Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen!” Both Bard and Thranduil offered smiles and nods of thanks, and they were left to look over the numerous choices.

 

They didn’t have long to look them over, however, before a tall man who Bard assumed was their waiter approached their little table and introduced himself. “Bonsoir, messieurs! My name is Christophe, and I will be looking after you this evening! Can I interest you in some wine tonight?” He questioned in a thick French accent. It hadn’t escaped Bard’s notice that everyone working in the restaurant was actually French, a nice Disney touch. Christophe’s nametag read that he was from a city called Chartres.

 

“Is that even a question?” Thranduil teased in answer, and Christophe laughed.

 

“No, it really isn’t!” The man exclaimed with a smile.

 

“I’d like some white wine, please.” Thranduil requested and Christophe nodded his understanding.

 

“And for you, sir?”

 

“White wine as well, please.” Bard requested. It wasn’t typical for both of them to be able to drink wine went they went on dates because usually one or the other had to drive home. Much to Bard’s delight, that was not the case tonight.

 

“Wonderful, wonderful.” Christophe nodded. “Shall I bring a couple of waters as well?”

 

“Yes please.” Thranduil smiled.

 

“Of course, I’ll have that right out. In the meantime, here you have your appetizers, should that interest you, and here you have your entrees.” Christophe told, pointing to various pages. “My personal favorite that I must recommend if you are a fan of fish is the _Rouget Atlantique en écailles de pommes de terre, fenouil, et sauce romarin,_ which is a Red Snapper in potato scales, briased fennels, and rosemary sauce. Are there any questions I can answer about the menu?” Both Bard and Thranduil shook their heads. “Alright then, I will get your drinks right out and will be back to take your order.” With that he left, and Bard and Thranduil were left to themselves.

 

“He seems nice.” Bard commented, and Thranduil nodded.

 

“Very. Though I’m pretty sure it’s a Disney requirement that you be in a good mood even when you’re not.”

 

“That’s part of what makes it magical, I suppose.” Bard said. Honestly, it was true. Without holding all of the employees to high standards of excellence, the company would not be anywhere near the same.

 

“What are you thinking about getting?” Thranduil asked after a moment of silence between the two while they read through the French titles of various dishes and their descriptions in English.

 

“Actually, the Red Snapper he suggested sounds pretty good.” The brunet confessed. “What about you?”

 

“I’m thinking the lobster has my name written all over it.” Thranduil told.

 

“Mmmm, sounds perfect.”

 

Not at all too soon Christophe arrived with two wine glasses and a bottle of white wine in his hands as well as two glasses of water. After setting all of the glasses down in their respective spots on the table, he made a show of popping the cork off of the wine bottle and pouring it into the glasses. The bubbles that floated to the top captured the feeling of pure happiness Bard was experiencing, and he could almost guarantee that the same could be said about Thranduil with the way his face practically glowed.

 

Christophe promptly took their orders, and the husbands spent their time enjoying each other and the incredible view. Bard never wanted to leave, but the pressing weight of the return of reality loomed just above his head. Not that he was going to spoil such a perfect evening with those painful thoughts.

 

The pair had plenty of time to talk (and flirt like hopeless teenagers) before their food arrived. When it did, Bard had to actively fight to keep his mouth from watering. Thranduil, it seemed, was in a similar state.

 

The food, as expected, was incredible. In fact, Thranduil ventured to say that it was arguably the best meal he had ever had in his life. Bard had to agree. The real highlight of the evening, however, was the unanticipated incredible view they had for the fireworks show known as Illuminations.

 

Directly outside the window where they sat, reflecting above the lake, were bright, brilliant fireworks booming in the sky and looking truly magical. To Bard, though, the real magic was not in watching the fireworks, but in watching his husband watching the fireworks. A look of childish awe was awash on Thranduil’s face, and had they not been in public in a fancy restaurant he would have kissed it right off of him. But seeing as they were, in fact, in public in a fancy restaurant, Bard settled for watching his husband with a doofy grin and allowing the warm feeling of unabashed love settle in his stomach.

 

When the show finally ended, Thranduil turned to Bard with tears in his eyes. “Did you plan this?” The blond questioned.

 

“Actually, I can’t take credit for the perfect view. I did, however, know about the fireworks show.”

 

Thranduil shook his head, a perfect smile on his perfect face. “I love you.” The man announced.

 

Bard knew that four words could never be enough to convey the way he felt about this man sitting before him, yet he let them fall past his lips anyway: “I love you too.”


	2. Cultural Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T

By the time they arrived at the door to Thranduil’s – now both of theirs – rooms, Bard felt the mind fog that came from too much socializing and putting on a show. While the day had held one of the best moments of his life, it had been long and draining overall. The man was more than ready to end it on a more intimate note.

 

Their wedding by the standards of men was not as either of them would have truly wished, but then again it was held more for the political statement that their marriage made than a personal celebration. Of course the Dwarves of Erebor had been invited, and truth be told Thorin was not nearly as obnoxious as the bowman would have expected, no doubt because of the presence of one Bilbo Baggins beside him. Thranduil did not manage to endure the evening without at least three arguments breaking out between him and their hairy neighbors, though that shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.

 

Besides the Dwarves, every Elf living in the Woodland Realm and every Man living in the newly revived Dale was invited to Thranduil’s expansive palace for the event. The happy couple was whisked this way and that throughout the day, and on top of that they were both frantically trying to keep an eye on their children.

 

 _Their_ children. It was almost alarming how quickly Bard’s thoughts changed from _his_ to _theirs_ , but then again, he had been looking forward to this day for a long time. He supposed that he had truly begun thinking of his family and his possessions as Thranduil’s a long time ago.

 

Now, standing in front of the intricately carved wooden doors of their chambers, Bard did not think he could have felt any more right. Thranduil pushed open the door with a grace that the man himself didn’t possess, and they stepped inside hand in hand.

 

Bard had been in these rooms many a time, yet the grandeur of them never ceased to amaze him. With a smirk Thranduil made his way over to the massive canopy bed that sat in the center of the room covered in what must have been fifty pillows. That little quirk about the Elf had always amused Bard, though now he thought that it might be more of an annoyance than anything.

 

While the pair was now considered married by the standards of Men, they had yet to get married by the standards of Elves. They had both wanted to wait, though it had never been easy. Now that their moment was finally here, Bard found himself short of breath.

 

Thranduil lounged back ever so enticingly on the silk sheets of the bed and raised a dark eyebrow as if to beckon his dragonslayer forth. Bard did not need to be told twice. He strode over to his husband and captured his lips in a deep kiss. He felt Thranduil’s hands in his hair and happily complied as the Elf pulled him down on top of him.

 

It didn’t take long before Bard felt Thranduil’s deft fingers move from his hair down to the hem of his shirt. The ghost of a touch the Elf granted him made Bard growl in frustration into the porcelain skin of the blond’s neck. He heard a chuckle escape from Thranduil’s mouth and finally he pulled up Bard’s tunic. The brunet lifted his arms to make the job easier and made to begin unbuttoning Thranduil’s robes. He was stopped, however, by the sudden realization of how still Thranduil was beneath him.

 

Bard tensed as suddenly a hundred thoughts of insecurity flooded his mind. What if Thranduil didn’t like the reality of the bodies of Men? Surely they were different from Elves in more than a few ways. Or what if he was disgusted by his scars the Master had inflicted upon him? Though that wouldn’t make much sense seeing as Thranduil wasn’t exactly scar free either. Regardless of the reason, there was no doubt of the Elf’s look of confusion and… curiosity?

 

 _Oh._ Suddenly Bard knew the reason for his husband’s odd behavior, and he felt guilty for ever thinking the Elf would be so uncaring as to react in a negative way. The brunet watched, breath caught in his throat, as Thranduil reached his hand forward ever so cautiously as if the man were a fragile piece of pottery that would shatter with the slightest wrong touch. The blond’s fingers ghosted over the tattoo engraved into Bard’s skin and the man released a shaky breath.

 

Thranduil suddenly looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing and searching into the core of Bard’s very being. “What are these, meleth nin?” He questioned, voice low and husky.

 

“Have you never seen a tattoo before?” The bowman replied. He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile at his husband’s unfamiliarity.

 

“I do not exactly spend my time ogling the bare bodies of Men.” Thranduil retorted, and now Bard was _really_ smiling.

 

“Hmm, good.” He grunted, burying his hands in Thranduil’s blond locks. The Elf’s eyelids fluttered closed only to be opened again deliberately. The testing look he gave him made Bard smirk just as he was accustomed to seeing the Elf do.

 

“What are they?” Thranduil asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. He traced the designs with his index finger, leaving a teasing trail of fire in its wake.

 

“Ink.” Bard explained. “We use needles to get it under our skin and the designs are a part of our bodies forever.”

 

“Do they have significance?”

 

“Of course.” He untangled his hands from the blond’s hair and sat up straighter in his lap so he could better point out the various designs. “They’re supposed to represent the things in life that mean the most to you. This one I got when I first came of age.” He told, pointing to an arrow engraved with decorative patterns that rested in the soft flesh just before his hip bone jutted out. “It’s not too difficult to figure out that it represents archery.’

 

‘This one,” he showed, pointing to a depiction of two daises entwined by their stems that rested over his heart, “this one is the most special to me. The daisies represent my wife and I. They were her favorite flowers. If you notice, there’s three leaves – one for Sigrid, one for Bain, and one for Tilda.”

 

He almost expected it to be vastly more difficult to show Thranduil something so personal between he and his late wife, but in reality, it felt good to be able to share something so important and precious with him. In a way, Bard had never felt closer to his husband than he did then.

 

“It’s beautiful.” Thranduil breathed. “Are those the only ones you have?”

 

“Right now, yes. Though I plan on getting one in representation of you as soon as possible.”

 

Thranduil’s gaze snapped back up to Bard’s at that. “Of me?” He questioned, and his disbelief was so incredibly endearing.

 

“Yes, of you.” Bard laughed, pressing a light kiss to the blond’s forehead. “I was thinking I’d get two elk antlers crossed on top of one another. Right across from the daisies.”

 

The Elf’s mouth hung open ever so slightly in shock, a sight Bard wasn’t sure he would ever get to see. “I… It would be an honor.” Thranduil told, and Bard couldn’t help but smile down at him. “Do you think I could get one? In representation of you?”

 

That, Bard had not expected.

 

“Um,” he stuttered, surprised, “I mean you certainly don’t have to. But if you would like to, then I don’t see why not.”

 

“I would.” Thranduil announced. The honesty and sincerity in his voice made Bard’s stomach flutter and he bent his head to rest on his husband’s. “Perhaps instead of you getting two antlers, I could get one and you could get one? In the same spot?”

 

Bard smiled and replied in a low voice “I think that sounds perfect.” With that he pressed his mouth to the blond’s once again and moved his hands to begin unbuttoning the Elf’s robes. Needless to say, it was a wonderful night. A few days later they had matching tattoos, permanent reminders of the bond they shared. And every night, seeing the bare chest of his husband, Bard felt that it was a tie between them and a reminder that their love would never fade, even when his physical body did.


	3. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

It is not easy being me.

 

Most everyone hates me, including myself. And while that is a bleak assessment, it is only natural. I was born to take away all that you love and all that you ever wanted, leaving the aching pain of loss in my wake.

 

I would not be me, if I could.

 

Believe me, I tried to get out of this gig a long time ago. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. Though I have found that there are times, once in a blue moon, that I am allowed to spare a life. This is one of those times.

 

Ever since their first kiss I have dreaded this moment. Why an Elf and a Man had to go and fall in love, I do not know, though I suppose that is the way of things. Nothing is ever simple, is it?

 

Now as the brunet lays in a bloody heap on the floor and the blond kneels over him, a strangled cry on his lips, I know that my time has come. Too soon, too soon, but nevertheless I approach.

 

You would think it would get easier after so very many years, yet the feeling as they fruitlessly attempt to cling to their last shred of life is paralyzing, to say the least. I expect this to be the same, yet as I take the Man in my arms I can feel all the time left to him if only I would let him go.

 

Oh, how I want to let him go.

 

I am nothing if not efficient, and I am about to do the deed when I hear something I have not before: words directed at me.

 

“Please,” the Man croaks, his dark gaze piercing through my form, “not yet.”

 

The plea takes me so by surprise that for a moment I simply stare, unable to look away. _Certainly it is too early_ , I argue with myself. _Surely I can give him more time._ In my heart, if you can believe I have one, I know that I am only delaying the inevitable. Yet the strangled sob that escapes the Elf is enough to wrench me from my reverie and place the Man oh so gently back down.

 

He wheezes and his eyes fly open the moment he is out of my arms. Of course the Elf is now frantic, desperate to get help, as he should be. It feels good to know that I am not entirely a slave, that I have some modicum of power of choice, though I know deep down that that feeling is a veneer. Truly I am a slave, and truly my pity will be my downfall.

 

I am Death and I am merciful, even when there is no place for me to be.


	4. Crack au (The Little Mermaid)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

Thranduil felt the current move his hair to the left side of his face and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown as Feren, the crab he had hired to look after his oldest son Legolas, swam into the throne room with the merboy in tow. With a wave Thranduil dismissed Feren, and the crustacean bowed before swimming back out the doors he had just come through.

 

“Legolas.” Thranduil greeted, making his voice sound even stonier than usual. The boy did not so much as bat an eye at his father’s tone, however, and simply glared at the merman in defiance. “I thought I told you to never go to the surface! How many times will I have to punish you before you understand that the Dwarves are a vile race and none of them or their crafts are worthy of your time?”

 

Beside him, sitting in a throne just like his own, Thranduil could nearly feel the exasperation radiating off of his husband. Bard agreed with Thranduil in that he thought that Legolas should not be going up to the surface, at least not without one of them there, but one thing the merman did not agree with was Thranduil’s hatred of the Dwarven race. “Your overgeneralizations and hatred do not get anyone anywhere, Thran.” He would tell many a time, but Thranduil would not allow his beliefs to be changed so easily.

 

“You’re wrong, ada.” Legolas told, and Thranduil could tell that the merboy was trying his best to puff out his chest and appear older, wiser, anything but the rebellious teenager he truly was.

 

“Oh?” Thranduil returned, one thick eyebrow raised in challenge. “Is that so?”

 

“Aye.” The boy said firmly, standing his ground. “Gimli is nothing like that. He’s kind, and funny, and sweet, and while he may be hairy and gruff – “

 

Before he could finish his declaration of adoration, Thranduil rose out of his throne and kicked his powerful tail until he floated just in front of Legolas’ face. The merman could see the moment his son realized his mistake, and it almost made him want to laugh he was so foolish. “You’ve _met_ one?” Thranduil growled, more a statement than a question.

 

He had to give the boy credit: even staring his livid father in the face his courage did not waver. Other than a twitch of his eyebrow, there was no response from him.

 

“Your carelessness is appalling.” Thranduil grated out between clenched teeth. “This is not a matter of disobedience; it is a matter of your safety and the safety of our people. By conversing with a Dwarf you have put us all in danger, and for that there must be consequences.”

 

Still the boy said nothing, though his jaw clenched even tighter with every word Thranduil spoke.

 

“Legolas,” Thranduil declared, “I have forbidden you from going to the surface, and you have disobeyed me. I suppose I must treat you as the child you are acting as and refuse to let you even leave the palace grounds. If you are _ever_ found so much as _mentioning_ that Dwarf again, you will sorely regret it.”

 

A look of horror passed over the boy’s face at that and Thranduil could feel the waves of anger and frustration that emanated from his tense form. “But – you can’t – “ he stuttered, but Thranduil did not want to hear any of it. The merman held up a hand to silence the boy, but of course he had to get the last word with a shout of “Ada, I love him!”

 

That was not what Thranduil had expected to hear.

 

Before Thranduil could say anything more his son shot from the room, no doubt to sulk resentfully in his chambers. With a dramatic sigh the merman turned to see his husband floating behind him with arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Thran,” the brunet sighed, “I know this is a bit of a shock, but honestly, it wasn’t all that long ago we were just boys. You remember your first crush, how your parents told you not to pursue it and eventually it led to us all being together now.”

 

“Yes, but I didn’t fall in love with a _Dwarf_.” Thranduil hissed, but Bard didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down on this one.

 

“Why can’t you at least agree to _meet_ the guy? We both know Legolas would never want to be with someone who treated him – or us – with less respect that we deserve. Give them a chance.”

 

Perhaps it was pity for his son, or, more likely, the way Bard murmured that last bit in his ear that made Thranduil cave, but nevertheless he did. Though it had taken more than a bit of persuasion from Bard…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I just really wanted an excuse for Legolas to shout his love for Gimli *Ariel style* ;)


End file.
